


This is real

by Thomasnewtminho29



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minho doesn't know what's real, Post-The Death Cure, because there's not enough fics about Minho's mental state after being held captive by wicked, canon character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 21:12:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13726062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thomasnewtminho29/pseuds/Thomasnewtminho29
Summary: The Safe Haven should have been a dream come true. Minho knew this, but somehow he can’t convince himself that it's real.





	This is real

**Author's Note:**

> So, I wrote this because there's so much talk about how Thomas will struggle with being in the safe haven and dealing with Teresa and Newt's deaths but there's not much about Minho. He's been tortured by WICKED for 6 months and put in medication induced dreams about the maze. I thought the bit when Thomas and Newt find him and they hug and Minho says 'This is real?" was heartbreaking so I decided to explore that a bit further. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

The Safe Haven should have been a dream come true. Minho knew this, but somehow he couldn’t convince himself that it was real.

 

He sat on the beach whenever he had a spare moment, pinching himself to try and prove to himself that this wasn’t a dream. Despite the fact that this made his arms bruised black and blue, Minho still didn’t believe it. Even though he could hear the waves crashing against the shore; taste Frypan’s food; and feel Thomas’s arms around him, it still wasn’t proof that this was real. His hallucination of the maze had felt real too. The Griever that chased him felt real. This could be another of WICKEDs tests. Despite this, he tried to act normal, he tried to act like he belonged in this world, at least he was with his friends here. At least he was with Thomas.

 

He sighed as he made his way to the common area, sitting down at a bench and putting his head in his hands. Two weeks. That’s how long they’d been here and Minho still couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on.

 

He could have just asked someone if this was real. Frypan, Brenda, Jorge, hell- even Gally would give him an answer. He wouldn’t dare ask Thomas, there was enough going on in his life without giving him anything else to worry about.  But, every time Minho plucked up the courage to ask one of his friends, a voice in the back of his head reminded him that he couldn’t fully trust _anyone_. If this was a vision that WICKED planted, they could control what everyone said to him. Maybe they’d moved on from the conventional ways of torturing him. Maybe they were seeing what his brain patterns were like if he thought he was safe, or how they changed when he’d lost one of his best friends (and that was another reason why he wasn’t sure this was real, Newt couldn’t _really_ be dead could he? The Glue that held them all together wasn’t really _gone_ ) and spending 24 hours a day worrying about Thomas.

 

He was pulled out of his thoughts as a bowl of soup was placed opposite him. “Penny for your thoughts?” a voice asked and Minho blinked up at Frypan.

 

“Sorry, Fry” he said. “There’s a lot on my mind.”

 

 _“Obviously”_ Frypan replied and despite the sarcasm in his voice he looked concerned. “What’s up?”

 

Minho folded his arms and tried to look nonchalant. “Nothing important” he lied.

 

Frypan snorted. “You look like klunk, Minho. You barely talk to us, you look like you haven’t slept in months, and you’ve started wearing long sleeves despite the fact that this place is only a few degrees cooler than the scorch. What’s going on with you Minho?”

 

He couldn’t tell him. He could picture the look of pity on Frypan’s face. “I’m worried about Thomas” he told him. It wasn’t entirely a lie. He _was_ really worried. Thomas woke up nearly every night, haunted by nightmares about Alby, and Winston, and Chuck, and Newt, and Teresa. Minho held him tightly, whispering words of comfort which seemed fake to him but appeared to help Thomas. He was in love with Thomas, yet another thing that was eating away at him, and he would do anything to help him.

 

Frypan looked sympathetic. “That’s not it though” he probed. Minho sighed, Frypan wasn’t going to give up. He was a good friend but Minho didn’t need this right now. “Look” Frypan continued, “I don’t doubt that part of this is about Thomas, we’re all worried about him but we’re worried about you too.”

 

Minho felt guilty but was saved from having to say anything as he spotted Thomas himself out of the corner of his eye. He plastered a grin on his face even though he felt genuinely happier. Seeing Thomas always lifted his mood. “Hey shuck face” he greeted as Thomas reached their table. He wrapped his arm around Thomas’s shoulders and tugged him down next to him. When Thomas turned to face him he pulled him into a hug and pressed his face against Thomas’s shoulder for a moment, trying to calm himself. When he pulled away, Thomas was smiling but looked a bit bewildered.

 

“What was that for?” he asked.

 

Minho shrugged, his face growing hot.

 

“Man, I wish someone would greet me like that” Frypan said, shaking his head and smiling fondly.

 

“How are you?” Minho asked, trying to draw the attention away from himself.

 

“I’m good, actually” Thomas said. “I’m feeling better than I have in a while.” His smile was dazzling and Minho couldn’t look away. He was glad Thomas was feeling better, that was all he wanted really. “I came to ask if you want to go on a run, nothing intense- just up to the woods and back.”

 

Minho wanted to go more than anything but he remembered running from grievers and from walls closing in the maze and he wasn’t sure if he could do it. “Sorry” he said. “I promised Vince and Gally that I’d help with building the next batch of cabins.”

 

Thomas looked momentarily disappointed but then smiled. “No worries, I’ll see you later?”

 

“Of course” Minho promised. He got up from the table and ruffled Thomas’s hair. “I better get going.”

 

He walked away feeling more alone than ever.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------

 

_Minho was in the WICKED labs, strapped into a chair so tightly he couldn’t move. He felt completely drained.  Doctors and scientists were moving around him, switching machines on and injecting strange substances into him. Janson’s face appeared in front of him, a smug smirk on his rat-like face._

_“_ How are you doing, subject A7 _?” he asked._

_Minho used most of his remaining energy to spit at Janson, feeling victorious when his saliva hit the man’s cheek. Janson wiped his face, looking disgusted. “_ My name’s Minho _” Minho said through gritted teeth._ “I’m not your subject”.

 

 _Janson laughed._ “That’s where you’re wrong _Minho” he said._ “We _own_ you. You’re going to make a nice little cure for us, and when we’ve drained you of blood, well, we’ll just have to find another immune like you.”

 

 _Minho felt sick._ “My friends are coming” _he told him. “_ Thomas and Newt will stop all of this.” _He could hear the uncertainty in his words and knew Janson could too._

_Janson shook his head and smiled._ “They’re not coming. You’ve been here for months and we haven’t even heard anything from them. Face it Minho, you’ve been left behind.”

 

 _Before Minho could even open his mouth to reply, Janson had turned away, looking at his watch._ “I have somewhere to be” _he announced._ “The board want a new sample within the next couple of hours. Make sure you get it done.” _he told the doctors._

_Minho felt a prick in his arm and his eyes grew heavy. He tried to fight it but it was no use._ “Thomas” _he whispered and then everything went black._

 

\-----------------------------------------------

 

Minho woke up in a cold sweat, breathing heavily. He never wanted to be in those labs again. He looked around, taking in the room he shared with Thomas. Was this reality or was that WICKED lab? Minho couldn’t tell and that scared him.  

 

He looked across at Thomas’s bed. His friend was asleep and that was so unusual that part of Minho didn’t want to risk waking him, but he needed to be near Thomas. He got out of bed and walked carefully across the room, gently pulling back the sheets on Thomas’s bed and climbing in next to him.

 

Thomas rolled over, stretching his arms above his head. “Minho?” he murmured.

 

“Sorry” Minho whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

 

“Are you ok?” Thomas asked.

 

“Yeah. I just- never mind. Go back to sleep.”

 

Thomas looked at Minho for a moment before smiling softly and closing his eyes, shuffling closer to him. Minho lay staring into the darkness, listening to Thomas’s breathing. He was puzzling over this Safe Haven. If it really was one of WICKEDs visions, then why was it ongoing? Why did the location never change? Normally after a day of testing they put him back in the holding cell, so why hadn’t they woken him up?

 

He felt Thomas stiffen next to him. “What are you talking about?” he asked, suddenly sounding wide awake.

 

Minho’s breath caught in his throat. _Oh shuck._ He’d been talking out loud. He turned away from Thomas, trying to pretend he hadn’t heard him. He felt Thomas’s hand on his shoulder. “Minho, talk to me” he pleaded gently. Minho stayed still and tried to deepen his breathing. He heard Thomas sigh before his hand moved away and he felt Thomas lie back down beside him.

 

Minho squeezed his eyes shut and tried to sleep.

 

\--------------------------------------------------

 

Minho woke before Thomas. During the night, Thomas’s arm had wound its way around Minho’s waist and his head was nestled against Minho’s shoulder. Minho lay there for a few minutes just watching Thomas sleep, he was finally looking relaxed and Minho wished he could be like that too. He carefully eased himself out of the bed without waking Thomas and made his way down to the beach.

 

He sat down in his favourite spot and watched the waves gently lapping against the shore, a bird flying high above the sea. It was so peaceful.

 

He’d been there a while when he heard footsteps coming towards him. He didn’t have to look up to know it was Thomas. His friend sat down next to them and they sat in silence for a while.

 

“You can talk to me you know” Thomas said eventually.

 

Minho picked up a handful of sand and let it slide through his fingers. “You’ll think I’m crazy.”

 

Thomas grabbed his hand and Minho turned to face him. Thomas was looking at him earnestly. “I’d never think you were crazy” he told him.

 

Minho stared down at his and Thomas’s hands. “I can’t tell if this is real or if WICKED have me and are still using me to make that damn cure.” He expected Thomas to tell him that was stupid or to say he didn’t understand. He rolled up his sleeves and showed Thomas his bruised arms. "I keep pinching myself, to check that I'm really here, but it doesn't help."

 

Thomas ran his free hand gently over Minho's arm and Minho shivered at the touch. “That makes sense” Thomas said and Minho looked up in surprise. Thomas squeezed his hand. “You went through so much Minho, they tortured you but you’re safe now.”

 

“How can I know that?” Minho asked, his throat tightening. “How do I know they’re not making you say that?” A tear slipped down his cheek, quickly followed by another and he tried to turn away. Thomas had never seen him cry and Minho wasn’t really sure he wanted him to now.

 

Thomas placed his finger underneath Minho’s chin, tilting his head up so Minho was looking directly at Thomas. He cupped Minho’s cheek with his other hand, gently wiping the tears from his face. Minho could barely breathe. “Do you trust me?” Thomas asked.

 

That was the easiest question Minho had ever been asked. He’d trusted that stupid, brave, beautiful boy ever since he’d run into the maze to save him and Alby. He’d go to the ends of the earth for him. “Of course I trust you” he said. He took a deep breath, “I love you”.

 

Thomas smiled, his whole face lighting up. He pulled Minho closer and kissed him. Minho melted into the kiss, feeling his whole body relax. _This is real_ he thought. He’d never been so sure of anything. Thomas broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against Minho’s. “I love you too” he murmured. “That’s real. This is real. You’re safe and WICKED will _never_ hurt you again. You just have to trust me.”

 

Minho moved backwards so he could study Thomas’s face. “Newt’s really dead” he said, his voice hollow. He immediately wished he hadn’t said anything when he saw the pain that crossed Thomas’s face and how his eyes filled with tears.

 

“He is” Thomas confirmed, his voice shaking as he blinked back the tears. Minho felt his chest constrict with grief. He should have known it was real, he’d carried Newt’s body back to the berg for god’s sake. What kind of friend was he if he couldn’t even work out if his best friend was dead or not? “Hey” Thomas said, pulling him back to the present. “Stop it. You were going through your own trauma, just because you weren’t sure what was real doesn’t mean you cared about Newt any less.”

 

Minho rubbed at his face, knowing Thomas was right. Newt wouldn’t want him to agonise over this. “This is all real” he muttered.

 

“This is all real” Thomas confirmed. He took Minho’s hand and placed it against his chest. Minho could feel Thomas’s heart thumping strongly and felt strangely peaceful. “See?” Thomas said. “I’m real, ok? So if you ever feel scared again just remember that I love you and I’m here. You’ve taken care of me for the last two weeks even though you’ve been feeling like klunk so now it’s my turn to take of you.”

 

Minho found himself smiling properly for the first time in ages. “Ok.”

 

Thomas kissed him again and stood up, offering him his hand. “Want to see if Frypan’s made breakfast yet?”

 

Minho grabbed Thomas’s hand and let him pull him up. “Sounds great” he said, intertwining their fingers. “And then maybe we could go on that run?”

 

Thomas squeezed his hand. “We’ll take it slow.”

 

They set off towards the kitchens, laughing and talking almost like old times. The fear that this would all be taken away from him was still in Minho’s mind but he felt better. He had Thomas.

 

This was real.


End file.
